Why The Caged Bird Weeps
by drusidiandream
Summary: "Why hello-ah, Gotham, didja miss me?"  He's back and she's unprepared for the repurcussions.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from The Dark Knight. I can only take credit for my own characters.**

Chapter 1

A woman wearing too much hair-spray and too little makeup smiled brightly off screen as she rattled off news in a cheery soprano voice. The cameraman on camera three yawned, having worked a double shift from 4:30 that morning until almost midnight. When the segment concluded, he would clock out and stumble home for some needed sleep.

"…and our final story of the night, Arkham Asylums announcement that a resident escaped has been confirmed by our very own George Windhem. We have been informed that the escapee is none other than the Joker, a dangerous criminal who was admitted only three months ago…"

As the woman continued to list the information on the joker, the man at camera three was distracted by a low clanking noise coming from behind. At first he paid no attention, but as the seconds seemed to slow around him, he held his breath. Instinct told him to get out, and get out fast. His heart sped up and he slowly moved away from the equipment in front of him.

"Mick, where are you going," his manager hissed angrily into his headset as an explosion rocked the room. The doors burst open and at least ten men jogged into the room with guns, clown masks visible on their faces.

Mick trembled on the floor, barley risking a glance. He had kids at home; twin boys. A low chuckle built as the tension in the room rose. The anchorwoman whimpered pathetically from under her desk, papers littering the floor.

A shadow fell over Mick before a kick sent him into the fetal position, cradling his hurt stomach.

Old scuffed shoes strode past him at an awkward gait, faded striped pants brushing his face. The laughing reached a crescendo before erupting into giggles.

"Why hello-ah, Gotham, didja miss me?"

* * *

Rebecca Minerva Argonne hated Gotham. The Narrows smelled of smoke tasted of death; a winning combination for a girl who had never seen poverty so close up before. Her sneakers scuffed the cracked pavement as she walked briskly towards the bus stop.

She checked her watch; 8:27. The bus would arrive in three minutes and not wait for even two. Quickening her pace, she kept her eyes down. Bad neighborhoods remained a sketchy place in her imagination, thugs on every corner and babies carrying knives.

Her fear propelled her and soon she came in view of the hooded platform marking the arrival of the bus. Unfortunately, the bus was disappearing as was the light from the sky.

"Shoot." She would have sworn but being slightly worn from a long day, nothing more creative came to mind. One dramatic drop onto the dilapidated bench later, and Rebecca was digging in her bag for her cell phone.

She had few friends, even fewer friends who would answer a call from her this time of night. After two attempts and one awkward message later, Rebecca decided to take the odds of a mugging and scurry home.

She made certain her pepper spray was handy before trudging her way through the dimly lit streets towards her house; ten blocks away. The activity on the streets lessened the closer she got to her destination. With only about 20 yards to go and shaking hands, she barely exhaled as she saw the porch light of her shabby home.

"Excuse me Miss," a sudden and loud voice asked behind her, jarring her back to reality. "Do you have some spare change? I really would like some water." A decrepit woman shuffled from foot to foot on the sidewalk besides her, appearing from nowhere, asking for a meager handout.

"I'm really sorry, I am actually about to go home, and I don't have my wallet today. Again, I am terribly sorry and I hope you find someone to help." Rebecca lamely excused herself before returning to her mission of reaching her homestead.

A whistle rang out and Rebecca sprinted forward. Rapid footfalls sounded loudly from behind her. Spraying wildly behind her in an attempt to save her life, the brunette suddenly wished she had attempted a sport in her childhood.

Her key out of her pocket in fewer than five seconds, the door was opened in ten, and the heavy breathing of her pursuers approached quickly. The spinning and slamming the door ended the ordeal and with a 'click' of the lock.

Rebecca leaped over her couch, and hid behind the gray piece of furniture, not daring to breathe loudly. Her cell phone had crept into her hand and was a key-press away from calling the police, not that they would respond to such a trivial matter, but it comforted her all the less.

She was unsure of how long she crouched there, minutes stretching to hours until suddenly she awoke, sunlight streaming through the windows. The clock read 7:39. Rebecca was late for work.

**Hey guys. I am new to fanfiction and I'm starting this with little experience. Please review and tell me what you think! Ideas for the plot are welcome because at the moment, I have no idea what I'm writing next.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dark Knight characters, I can only take credit for my own original characters.**

Chapter 2

The employee entrance to "Slappy's Qwick Mart!" was as unappetizing as road kill to Rebecca at the moment, but she had an obligation to show up and explain her tardiness. The manager, Paul, wouldn't be pleased, but being her first offense, she figured he would let it slide.

How very wrong she was. To compensate for the wasted time, she would have to stay late; cleaning bathrooms and restocking the vacant shelves with what little stock had been ordered.

If she hadn't needed the money so badly, she wouldn't have even bothered interviewing for the job. Not that the three second meeting could be considered such, but alas, here she was.

Five minutes before she could legally close the 'Qwick Mart' a man wandered in, looking like trouble. As was protocol, she retreated to the counter where the security camera was. If shoplifting was his game, she was prepared to sound the alarm.

Instead, the young man approached the front counter, inquiring about smokes.

"Hey missy, you carry cigarettes?"

Pasting a bright smile on her otherwise bored features, Rebecca prattled off the city rules about I.D. and driver's licenses. With each word from her mouth, she noticed the man growing restless.

Suddenly, the bell on the front door jingled and three men in clown masks raced towards the counter. Shouts erupted, demanding Rebecca get on the floor and give them the key to the register.

The man who had been talking to her earlier dropped to the floor with fright.

"Which do you want first?" She shakily asked while trying to compose her features. Unbeknownst to them, if they asked her to retrieve the key herself, she planned to pepper spray their asses.

The clown with the dirtiest mask and the biggest gun barked "Get the damn key and then you should forget you ever saw our faces, 'else we'd have to shoot you." As if to emphasize his point, all the goons bounced their guns in her direction.

"I'm going to have to get my keychain, do not shoot me please," she pleaded while reaching for her purse, which rested underneath the counter. The pepper spray only inches from her fingers. She rose slowly, bringing the bag with her.

Rebecca felt the compact weapon in her hand as she pressed the button for the alarm. Suddenly a loud siren echoed throughout the tiny establishment. While the men where momentarily distracted, she pulled the trigger and aimed for their eye holes.

"Goddammmit!" Two of the three howled in pain and pulled off their masks in response to the assault. Vigorous eye rubbing only made it worse. Rebecca's eyes watered as she tried not to breathe it in.

The third clown seemed unsure of what to do, so he reached over the counter and grabbed Rebecca by the collar, hauling her off her feet and somewhat towards him.

"Why the hell'd you do that? You've just signed your death sentence." Before he could pull the trigger on his gun, Rebecca responded at close range with another bout of pepper spray.

The police arrived in twenty minutes, not deeming such a robbery as high on the list. Rebecca was in tears from the spray and from her panicking. By now, she had let the terrified customer flee and had locked the temporarily blinded men in the mart.

"Ma'am, we are responding to an alarm that was set off exactly twenty two minutes ago. Were you the employer who threw the switch, and if so, would you care to explain why?" Rebecca nodded quickly and because she didn't trust herself to talk without stuttering, she led them to the front door.

Within seconds of being in the store, the officers cuffed the clowns and dragged them towards the police car.

Another officer approached her. "May I get your name and information please, for the report." The two conversed for a few minutes, the gravity of the day catching up with the young girl.

"If you officers will excuse me, I would like to go home now. Could I get a ride, the bus doesn't come for another two hours and my legs won't sustain me for long." Within a half hour, she was snug in her bed.

As she dozed, the TV reflected back from her glasses. The show she had watched had long ended and the news was now beginning.

Instead of the usual anchor, another woman was gravely reporting with a more serious approach than the former woman, who had quit after the ordeal of the precious night.

"Good evening ladies ad gentlemen. Tonight we start off with the story of an attempted robbery. We have reason to believe that the men arrested have a connection to the Joker. As of now, not much has been released other than that the three men were also patients of Arkham Asylum.

"The men attempted to rob "Slappy's Qwick Mart" on 5th avenue at about 6:45 today. The hero of this story is a brave young woman by the name of Rebecca Argonne. She single-handedly apprehended the robbers…"

If Rebecca had been awake, she would have realized just how dangerous her situation had become. Not only had she helped the police to arrest some of the Joker's men, but her name had also been announced, on public television.

**Hey, it's me again. Thank you for the review Platinim13. It was greatly appreciated! Again, I'm not sure where this is going, so writing should be an adventure. Hopefully the two characters will meet soonish. Thanks guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dark Knight characters, I can only take credit for my own original characters.**

Chapter 3

While Rebecca was gently snoring, a man hunched at the shoulders paced unevenly in a dusty warehouse. Paint peeled from the walls, and windows had been long shattered. The sound of rats scurrying around echoed lightly in the air.

Outside an inconspicuous car approached; tan in color and slightly old in model. The headlights shone briefly on the concrete before the driver extinguished them. Two door slams later and three darkly clothed men scrambled through the damp back alley into the building.

The first man to enter was stocky, with hands like a gorilla. He had short cut hair and two rings on his right hand. His clown mask was balled tightly in his left hand.

He opened his mouth to take a breath, when he saw the figure clouded by the shadow, and tried to speak, "Boss, I hope…"

He trailed off when he heard saw the glint of a gun. The two men behind him stopped walking completely, barely daring to breathe.

The boorish man opened his mouth and swallowed nervously, words sticking.

A small giggle broke into the still space before swelling into full on laughter. "Well boys, didja forget my money? Or did the oh soooooo kind woman on the tellie lie to me?"

"Boss, sir, you see, we had a set back…"

A bullet was suddenly lodged in the throat of the man to his right, a blonde twenty-seven year old who went by the name of Kicker. The wet gurgling went on for five minutes before the room was silent again.

Another round of sniggers creepily came from the form before he stepped into a line of light. "Well my friend-ah?"

Once more, the man tried to explain. "You see, Boss, Runt was in charge of the run, and you know he doesn't have much goin' on in the head. Am I right?" He half attempted an awkward laugh when suddenly the gun went off for a second time.

The henchman jumped and closed his eyes, a hand shooting to his heart, which was beating at an alarming rate.

When he opened his eyes, the face of the Joker was inches from him.

"Boo."

The Joker pushed the man with his palm. "Weeeelllll Joe, it seems that you are at fault because as I recall and as we know I recall it all, that you were in charge of picking the person in charge of the run. And we all know," his eyes seemed to emanate blackness from their depths. "That those who fail me don't work in this town ever again."

Joe cowered and tripped over one of the fallen men. He fell to the ground and crawled back a few steps as the Clown Prince of Gotham approached with a menacingly slow gait.

"And Joe-ah, ha, well, if you can't work in the town, you will work no where." This time, he had a knife. Joe was, by now, almost as pale as the makeup on his employer's face.

"Boss, I swear, he seemed ready to pull it off. I hear that the bitch had a weapon. We didn't plan for anything like that!" The Joker halted, and seemed to contemplate his statement.

"Well Joe, I see what you mean." Joe sighed quietly, hoping that he wouldn't be in trouble.

"I mean, some little girl with pepper spray could have practically killed you! I mean, just look at the number of pepper-spray related deaths per year, practically rivaling knife related deaths! Ha!" The clown was tossing the knife back and forth, evident humor in his voice.

"Do you know how weak this makes me look, Joseph? Huh? Did you ever think of little ol' me? No?" He stepped forward, narrowly avoiding the nameless dead man.

Joe trembled as the dangerous man hovered over him. "Boss, I can take care o' her I swear to you, I swear on my mother, God rest 'er…" The blade on his neck made speech difficult for Joe.

"Joe, Joe, Joey, Joe. Your mother is alive and well, well…not for long-ah! I'm only teasing. You won't be. Neither will that 'bitch' as you called her. Both of you have made me look veerrrryyyy silly, and only I am allowed to do that." The knife nicked his skin.

"Boss…plea..se…I could take care o'er…." The Joker didn't hesitate before ripping the blade into his flesh; he didn't flinch when the grown man wailed with pain; he only smiled as he stood and wiped off his knife.

"Ohhhh Joe. You could always make me laugh. As if I'd let you 'take care o'er.'" he imitated harshly.

"Only I will touch Miss Argonne. Oh look at you! You seem to have gone silent, is it because I scare you Joe? Oh ho ho, another joker is on the prowl I see!" The mad man giggled and chuckled, talking to himself as he rocked on his heels.

Halfway across Gotham, Rebecca woke with a start, clutching her sheets. Her face felt crusty and she batted at it, only to find that her nose had bled sometime throughout the night.

"Shit." She rolled over, aiming her eyes at the ceiling in the dark. The young woman grumbled with each step she took away from her bed. The warmth soon left her body so she hurried towards the light switch.

"Double shit." She had bled on her pillow and sheets. This happened at least twice a year and she always had to buy new sleep wear. Rebecca usually woke up when this happened; nose bleeds were a regular thing for her.

She rubbed her eyes and squinted at the clock, she must have taken her glasses off at some point in the night. It was 5:24 in the morning.

Rebecca walked into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. There was dried blood in a thick line from her nose down her throat and onto her clothes. Sighing deeply, she washed it off of her skin with a wash cloth.

She lay in bed, trying to fall asleep for an hour and a half. Her phone rang, so she fumbled with the receiver, answering with a breathless "Hello?"

"Hey Rebecca, it's Paul. I'm calling to say that you don't have work today on account'a the fact that the store is closed due to police investigation or something. So enjoy your day off. This will count as a sick day, Bye."

Before she had even tried to talk, he was gone. She flung the phone back in its cradle and flicked the T.V. on. Old time reruns always helped her sleep. Rebecca set the alarm for 9:30, and fell back into an uncomfortable sleep.

**Hey guys! I am still writing. I had to get motivated. The two should meet next chapter, but I need to know if readers are still interested...so review please! Thanks for the past reviews.**


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